


Miracles

by D_Adrienn



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: All for plot reasons, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And she will eventually suffer the consequences, Angst and Feels, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood and Violence, But none of the characters deserve what happens in the first chapter, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Jester Lavorre/Mollymauk Tealeaf, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I wrote this on the 25th, It's gonna be dark you guys, Jester does something she shouldn't, Lucien is his own warning, Molly deserved better, Multi, Non-Canon use of spells, Non-Canonical Character Death, Non-Consensual Touching, Slow Burn, So much angst, This is how I celebrate Christmas, Time Travel, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28338354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_Adrienn/pseuds/D_Adrienn
Summary: "The lavender tiefling with the easy-going smile - his name was Mollymauk, right? -, he was very charming, I noticed... as well as the fact that you were quite eager to introduce him to me. Is there any particular reason for it?"Jester looked away, unable to answer her mother's question. It wasn't like she didn't have one - the cleric had several to choose from: one, she always thought Marion and Molly would get along fabulously. Two, Molly never got to meet her the first time the Mighty Nein visited her. And last, but not least, three - the answer her mother was most likely waiting for - Jester fell in love with the blood hunter.Hard.She just wasn't sure how she could tell her any of them out loud without crying.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Mollymauk Tealeaf, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Miracles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be a long ride, folks. Buckle up, cause it's gonna be ugly - and I warn you, things get graphic in this chapter. People will die in horrible, gut-wrenching ways, cause nothing brings me more joy than the suffering of others.  
> It's not too explicit, I think, but I'm a pretty bad judge of things. So yeah, you have been warned regardless.  
> Also I have to mention that the ways spells work in this fic won't be always accurate to canon - sometimes because of plot reasons and... mostly because of plot reasons - so don't expect pinpoint accuracy when I describe what a spell does. I'm basically winging this whole thing.  
> Anyway, I have already been rambling on for too long, so, here you go: the Jester/Molly fanfic, nobody asked for!  
> Man, I need a nap.
> 
> Song I Listened To While Writing: SWARM & TINYKVT - Devil's At Your Door  
> 

As the smoke from the burning forest below entered Jester’s lungs, the tiefling’s grip on the rope weakened, body thrown into a coughing fit as she tried to cry out to the others for a little help.

_They have to see the smoke coming out, right?_

Thankfully, it looks like they did - she was suddenly yanked upwards, almost falling off from the sheer force of six people of varying strength pulling on a rope in unison. Holding on for dear life - literally - Jester closed her eyes and held her breath, internally grumbling when she realized she would probably smell like smoke for at least a week.

Still - she knew it was worth it. That forest was unnatural, just as Caducous said. It had to be destroyed. But as she was still on her way to the surface, Jester heard something very strange - was that… a scream?

She shuddered, never more thankful for her friends than when she was pulled out that accursed hole, Fjord and Caleb helping her stand up and walk her even further from it so she wouldn’t inhale any more of the smoke. After they helped her sit down, and while she was struggling to breathe, she heard the scream again - now accompanied by even more voices, which were faint, screeching, and pained, crying out in a chorus as something - _somethings_ \- were slowly being burned alive.

As the screams started to die down, Jester shook her head, finally feeling just a bit better.

“They weren’t going to be saved.” she whispered, voice hoarse from the smoke. Caduceus looked down at the hole, head bowed.

“There was… This was the closest to kindness. That was not... okay.” said the firbolg in a quiet voice, his knuckles turning white around his staff, the crystal at the top of it gently pulsing.

The whole party stood by, silent for a few minutes, catching their breath and lost in their thoughts. Whatever was down there, they would be the only ones aware of their demise.

But they soon had to get going. The clock was ticking.

Jester hugged her legs, wandering about just how much time they still had to get away from here. They _should_ have at least got a day or two of advantage with flying over most of the stuff in Eiselcross, but it was no guarantee the Tomb Takers didn’t have some kind of way of catching up. Although Dagen, their dwarven guide through this frozen landscape, claimed that they probably didn't know the place as well, and thus their journey would take longer, that was only one piece of the story. The other one, the one that made Jester truly nervous, was that nobody from the party had any idea how powerful these mysterious marauders were. Nor what they were capable of to reach their goal - and what they would do to those who would stand in their way. 

Although remembering what happened to Vess DeRogna, Jester had a guess or two about that one...

She just hoped they would be safe for at least tonight. These two fights basically drained her completely - aside from one last, sixth level spell slot -, Yasha lost nearly all of her rage on that stupid crystal, Cad probably didn’t have many heals left, and the rest of the party wasn’t doing great either. Both Fjord and Beau got hit pretty hard by that automaton, and Cad couldn’t heal them up fully. Veth and Caleb were relatively alright, but they must have felt exhausted too. If the Tomb Takers caught up to them...

Hugging her legs stronger, Jester tried her best to push down those thoughts, knowing full well that worrying about the future won’t change anything. If the Tomb Takers were close, they were close - and she just had to hope that they wouldn't decide to attack them while they were asleep.

At that thought, Jester closed her eyes. It was too horrible to even imagine what would happen.

***

“Who’s gonna take first watch?” Beau asked as Caleb was putting up the dome, while the whole party - plus Dagen - were standing around the stone archway covered in snow where they would take their rest for the night. Jester felt a pinch of disappointment at remembering they couldn't sleep in the tower tonight - not only was the magical getaway a safer option, but it was also more comfortable.

“I will take first.” Fjord said, pushing snow off a rock so he could sit down for a second, his breath visible in the freezing evening air.

With a sniff, the blue tiefling held out her arms at the side as she skipped along into the virgin snow a bit farther from her party. She was determined to make a penis out of her footprints, in an attempt to occupy her mind with something more productive than worrying about stuff she held no power over. Veth joined her when she noticed what she was doing, but only for a few steps before the halfling decided that it was just too cold for this kind of stuff, and ran back to the middle of the group to hide from the brutal winds that made even Jester shiver. That didn't stop her from finishing her newest masterpiece though, although this particular dick wasn't the prettiest one she ever made, it was huge nonetheless, and that pleased her greatly. 

The thought made Jester chuckle.

"Okay, question - maybe I'm just being paranoid, but there is _no way_ that the Tomb Takers could actually catch up to us tonight, right, Dagen?" she heard Beau's voice carry over despite the wind hissing in her ears, and the monk's question made the cleric's fragile mood crumble like dust. 

"Not by normal means - but from what you lot told me, those guys aren't normal by any stretch of the word." the dwarf grunted, to which Fjord looked up, pulling his hat deeper into his head to protect it from the bitter cold.

"We know that at least two of them possess very powerful magic." the paladin-warlock muttered, his words barely comprehendible by Jester. "But I wouldn't think either of them has anything that would make them go faster through the snow."

"With all the advantage they had, they should have been here before us if that was the case." Veth added, her whole body shaking, although she tried to jump up and down to fight the cold somewhat. "Or they are going to arrive any minute and kill all of us."

"Don't stay shit like that!" Beau snapped, and Caduceus shook his head with a grim expression.

"Something like that is always in the cards." 

Jester looked out into the darkness, her vision faintly obscured by the few snowflakes dancing in the light Caleb’s _Dancing Lights_ emitted. She couldn’t help but grit her teeth at the thought of seeing eyes, dark, cruel, and as red as blood, at one point staring back at her if she kept looking. But no matter how she tried, she didn’t dare to turn away.

That horrible, suffocating feeling in her chest kept getting worse with every second. Jester didn’t know why - why was she so afraid? Yes, they were in a worse position now, but even back then, when they first faced Lucien and the Tomb Takers, she was nowhere near _this_ scared.

No, she was more sad than anything else. Sad and disappointed, because when she looked him in the eye, face to face, she hoped to see _something_ inside left of the friend she never got to say goodbye to. But she didn’t.

Lucien had Molly’s features, and some of his mannerisms - his charisma, his sly tongue, but none of what made Molly, well, _Molly_. None of his warmth, his openness, his smile, nor the way he knew when one of them needed _somebody_ to just be there with them, as to be not alone. To just sit down next to them, without having to say a single word. Molly knew when somebody needed help - he just _felt_ it. A glance was enough for him to know. 

All of these traits were the attributes of Molly that Jester loved the most. The ones that drew her to him, the ones that made her _wonder…_

“You are keeping an eye out for him?”

Surprised, Jester looked back to see Yasha approach and saw the pain in her eyes that was familiar to what the cleric felt was in her heart. Nodding, she turned back towards the darkness, unsure what to say. Yasha walked up next to her, and didn’t say anything for a few seconds before quietly announcing:

“I don’t know if there is anything left of him.”

Tears pricked Jester’s eyes, unable to admit that she came to the same conclusion. She tried to have hope, but it was fickle - everything Lucien said and done so far only vaguely reminded her of what Molly would do, and even that was a stretch.

It was more wishful thinking than anything.

“I mean… he took the four-leaf clover Molly gave you - that must mean something… right?”

“I don’t know Jester… I don’t dare to hope. Not anymore.”

“But-” 

Jester wanted to argue. A flare of anger ignited in her chest, not because of Yasha, but because of the unfairness of it all - there had to be _something_ there, right? 

_Molly was brilliant. He couldn’t be gone completely. Not like this._

_And yet-_

“I’m sorry. I wanted to cheer you up, but it kind of backfired, didn’t it?” Yasha smiled - a sad, typical Yasha smile. Instantly, Jester shook her head before quickly wiping away the tears that were beginning to freeze onto her cheeks. 

“No, it’s not your fault, Yasha. This is just a sucky situation.” She smiled, trying her best to not look so downtrodden in front of the barbarian. After all, _she_ was the one who was closest to Molly - compared to her, Jester’s pain was nothing. She wasn’t the one who should be comforted. “I will continue to keep an eye out. Why don’t you check up on Beau? She has been through a lot today. I think she would appreciate you looking out for her.”

A sweet little bush ran across Yasha’s pale cheeks as she looked at the freezing Beauregard, who was currently passive-aggressively arguing with Veth about something. She was eaten by a giant baby, stabbed through her shoulders by a giant sword _twice_ \- the monk would probably love having the aasimar's attention for a few minutes.

“Yeah, you say so? Are you sure? I mean…” pulling her fancy hat deeper down her head, Yasha’s blush deepened. “She actually asked me on a date. Tomorrow night.”

“Yasha, that’s amazing!” Jester loudly yelled, making everyone look at her for a second, to which she just nervously giggled before hiding behind the taller woman, voice lowered down. “We are going to make a full-proof plan. I will help you find the sexiest, most amazing outfit that exists, we are going to practice some poetry you can recite to Beau-”

“Whoa-whoa-whoa!” Yasha slowed her down, two-colored eyes blinking quickly. “Actually, I was thinking about… kinda just winging it? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you helped me tons already, I would have never tried to write Beau a letter without you, but… I just want to see what happens if I just go for it, you know?”

Quickly, Jester nodded, making sure Yasha didn’t feel like she offended her.

“Yeah, I get it, that’s totally fine. I mean, I’m just so happy for you, and I want you guys to have this - so, if you feel like you need advice, or you just want my opinion about a pick-up line or something, you know where to find me!” giggling, Jester suddenly squinted her eyes, looking Yasha up-and-down. “But I _will_ help you find an outfit. I’m not kidding about that. Okay?”

Yasha smiled - a rare, genuine smile - and pat Jester on the shoulder.

“Of course you can. You are more fashionable than me by a country mile.”

“I mean, that’s true - but don’t forget, that fashion is just, like icing on the cake. Beau loves you because of who you are, and I’m just going to _embellish_ your natural charm. She is going to _faint_ when she sees you!”

“I mean, I don’t want her to hurt herself…”

“She won’t! Just a figure of speech - although there is always a possibility-”

As they chit-chatted for a couple more minutes, Jester felt considerably better. The fact that Beau and Yasha may finally end up together, the promise of a better future for both of them, reminded her that she shouldn’t get stuck in the tragic past. There was always a tomorrow, after all.

“I will go talk to her then. Thank you, Jester. You helped me a lot.”

“No, you were the one who helped me out. I’m feeling much better now. You are a good friend, Yasha.”

Giving Yasha a quick hug before letting her go stride over to Beau in a faintly exaggerated manner - Jester’s idea -, the tiefling felt like that terrible feeling was lifted off her chest at last. She saw Caleb finishing up the dome, and dusting the excess snow off his cloak, he motioned them to go inside.

As she took a few steps towards her friends, Jester suddenly stopped. Blinking, she took another step, but she found herself unable to take another.

“Jester, what’s taking you so long?” Veth yelled out to her, but the cleric couldn’t hear her. She couldn’t hear anything - not the screaming wind, not their cloaks and coats flapping around their freezing bodies, nor her own thoughts.

The fear and terror that filled her entire body upon feeling herself being watched muted out every sound other than her quickly-pounding heart.

Slowly, Jester turned around and stared into the darkness. Every breath she took felt scorching in her chest, and her eyes were strained watching the slight movements of snowflakes dance into the black nothingness that was outside of their light’s reach. 

There was nothing. She didn’t see anything.

Up until the moment when two, blood-red eyes appeared in the dark of the night.

_No..._

“ _Well-_ ” a deep, familiar voice called out, not too loud, not too quiet, but with an accent that was richer, thicker than she remembered. A step closer, the snow crunched under his boots, and he manifested out of the darkness, like a nightmare come to life. “-lookie here. Such a lovely sight for my sore eyes. Jester, was it?”

He was smiling. An unkind, blood-churring smile that may have looked friendly at a first glance, but Jester knew - _remembered_ \- what a real smile looked like on that face. She cherished each and every one he gifted her, after all. 

This smile was calculating. Thinking, looking for the best course of action. And the way it widened just a split-second later, Jester felt like she already ran out of time.

“You know, I think we should get the others into this little chat of ours. I don’t think they know I’m here. Maybe we should tell them…. what do you say?”

As he took another step forward, Jester didn’t think - she turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could, amethyst eyes wide with fear, taking a breath to scream out, when she felt someone catch the hood of her dress, yanking her back, followed by a strong arm snaking across her waist to pull her flush against a body that felt as cruel and rigid as the treacherous winds of Eiselcross. “GUYS, HELP-!” she screamed, but her words were suddenly cut short when she felt a sharp blade almost press into her throat, nearly cutting skin. 

_This isn’t happening._

_Why did I stand there, out in the open like that?_

_Why?_

_Why?!_

_…_

_I’m so stupid._

**_So fucking stupid._ **

“Utter a word…” Lucien whispered into her ear, words laced with malice and impatience, his baritone almost drowning out the enraged and shocked yells of her companions. Jester tried to pull away, not wanting him so close, hating how his arm is wrapped around her torso, how she couldn't move her own arms under this twisted embrace. She resented this position almost as much as she feared the blade pressed against her neck - but there wasn’t much space given to her, and he actually cut into her throat a bit, letting some blood flow as a warning, which was followed by a growl in infernal: “ _And I won’t be forgiving._ ”

"Jester-!"

" _You bastard-_ "

" **LET GO OFF HER, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!** "

Jester was too scared to even cry. Satisfied, Lucien raised his head, looking at each member of the Mighty Nein, uncaring for the hard insults thrown into his face. Smiling again, he whistled, making the rest of the Tomb Takers - or at least those who didn’t benefit from the darkness - step into the light, successfully surrounding Jester’s party. Each of them looked just as menacing - yet _off_ , somehow - as Jester remembered them. 

“I have to say, I’m somewhat impressed. Here you are, after defeating who knows what kind of horrors underneath, with all of you intact - or _somewhat_ , at least.” 

He glanced towards Beau and Fjord, both of them barely containing their fury. Jester saw Caduceus’s eyes darken, Veth pulling out her Corecut dagger, one of Caleb’s hands disappearing into one of his pouches, ready to cast the moment an opportunity arose. And Yasha - all of the love-filled blush disappeared, replaced by ice-cold determination. Even Dagen looked ready to fight the assailants, scowling underneath his thick beard.

Seeing how her friends were ready to defend her eased some of Jester’s anxiety - but she now also saw what Lucien was seeing: a group of ready, but battered and tired people, who would surely not be able to bring their A-game.

They would be easy to take out. Remove them like a thorn from his side. _Then why the hostage situation..?_

Glancing at the rest of the Tomb Takers, the goliath, the elf, Cree - the halfling was probably hiding in the darkness - Jester saw that they were looking a bit rough too. Especially Cree, whose breathing was quite labored, and Jester guessed she probably had many of her spell slots used up in the rush for them to catch up with the Mighty Nein. 

Lucien _needed_ her. As long as he had her, the Nein wouldn’t dare to attack, unless provoked. Was this his plan from the start? Jester didn’t think so, it seemed like he just took an opportunity that presented it to himself oh so nicely - Jester, standing aside all willy-nilly without anyone to back her up, like a complete moron.

It will be her fault if this goes wrong.

_If I get anyone killed, I will never forgive myself._

Closing her eyes, Jester held back a sob. 

“I believe the time for pleasantries is **over** , however. With how you all so obviously decided that you want none of my hospitality, I think it’s time to be honest with each other: what is it that you are trying to accomplish with this? Cutting in front of me, stealing what I want from right under my nose...? Did you honestly think I would have tolerated this blatant disrespect for long? That I would just _let you stop me_ from accomplishing my **mission**?!” 

With every word, Jester felt Lucien’s arm tightening around her until she was unable to hold back a painful cry at her ribs being nearly crushed. Instantly, he eased his grip a bit, coming down to her ear again to whisper to her, now only a semi-quiet “Apologies, my dear.”, before looking back at the Mighty Nein, who all looked at Fjord - gritting his teeth, the half-orc took a deep breath before raising his chin.

“We apologize, if you feel like we offended you - it wasn’t our intention. You see-”

“ ** _No._ **”

The Tomb Takers stirred, while her party’s members glanced at each other, Fjord looking somewhat surprised before trying again.

“I was meant to say-” but he got cut off one more time.

“I don’t care what kind of lie you were preparing to feed me. That kind of roundabout speech wasn't the thing I was waiting for... It seems like being honest is still a bit over your guys’ reach, and to be frank: **I’m tired of your bullshit**. Let’s get to the point of this little tryst of ours, shall we?” easing his grip on his scimitar, Lucien gently caressed Jester’s jawline with his thumb, the gesture making the cleric’s stomach turn. Meanwhile, the blood hunter kept talking, not noticing - or not caring, rather - how uncomfortable he was making her. “I have something you want, and you have something I want. Pretty clear-cut, right? You give me the Threshold Crest, and Jester is free to go. Not completely unscathed, mind you - she managed to cut herself with my blade you see, the clumsy little darlin’.”

He chuckled, and the rest of the Tomb Takers joined in. Jester saw Fjord take a step forward, which the male tiefling immediately noticed. Gripping his weapon more firm, Lucien pushed the blade back to her throat, making Fjord stop in his tracks. Her captor's smile vanished as he looked over the Mighty Nein, waiting for their answer.

“What’s it gonna be then? Are you ready to make a deal? Or is her life not worth whatever your goal is? That would be a pity - she _is_ quite the looker.”

“You son of a-” Beau looked like she wanted to jump on Lucien to beat the shit of him, and is only stopped when Fjord grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. 

Caleb suddenly took a step forward, making every member of the rival party - in unison - look at him. Compared to Fjord, the wizard didn't look like much of a threat, but his face was unreadable - yet there was a fire burning in those eyes. No uncertainty or hesitation could be seen in those ice blue irises.

“How can we know for certain you won’t just cut her throat the moment we give you the Crest?”

Lucien stayed silent for a few seconds, studying Caleb’s facial expression, before tipping his head to the side, smiling like a benevolent parent when their child does something stupid but endearing.

“Well, how can _I_ know you won’t try anything when I let her go? That hand of yours is probably in a place that wants to see me in a world of _hurt_.” humming under his breath while thinking, Lucien adjusted his grip on Jester’s waist, which made the tiefling cringe. “How about this: We both trust the other that they won’t pull any tricks, and after the deal is done, we both go on our merry ways. I mean, it’s not like I wouldn’t fight you, but I believe that this can be done in a more civilized manner. What do you say?”

As nobody was saying anything, Jester could feel that this won’t work out - neither of them seemed like they wanted to take the first step, and she could feel another growl starting to resonate inside Lucien’s chest.

"Although I don't know why I'm giving you yet another chance. **I don't think you deserve it.** " The last sentence was repeated by the rest of the Tomb Takers, a tainted echo that made Jester's wish she could forget the sound of. It chilled her to the bone more than the cold.

But when Yasha stepped out of the group, all voices were hushed. Skingorger tight in her grasp, head lowered as he approached Lucien in the middle, violet and bluish eyes boring into red ones. As she drew closer, he took a step back, pulling Jester with him while pushing his scimitar into her neck harder, making her cry out again. 

Yasha, already half-way between the Tomb Takers and the Mighty Nein, stopped when Jester whimpered. Slowly, she raised her head, and the artist inside Jester gasped - as she stood there, her now mostly white hair dancing in the gathering wind, hefty snowflakes falling all around her while her long, foreboding shadow fell on both of them, face as emotionless as that of a statue, never before did she look more threatening yet beautiful. Jester made a mental note of every detail, determined to paint this scene down and gift it to Beau when they finally got out of this nightmare.

The barbarian looked Jester in the eye before looking back at the man who now wore Molly’s face. The silence seemed to stretch on forever before she spoke - _quietly_ , but her voice never wavered.

“You say you won’t harm her?”

Lucien tensed behind her, and Jester realized how wary he was now of Yasha - but who wouldn’t when faced against such raw, unforgiving look of protective intent? If he would try and hurt Jester, Yasha would show no mercy - she would chase him to the end of the world to cut him down, and no amount of begging or pleading could stop her. 

Of that, all who could see the look on her face was certain.

“ _Well_ , that’s my intent.” was she imagining it, or did his voice just crack? “It’s you folk I’m unsure about. How can _I_ be certain you won’t just attack me with everything you’ve got? Believe me, killing Jester would break my heart as well - but in the end, we all sometimes have to make… _sacrifices_.”

His breath came out shaky, but Jester could feel that his grip being as stable as ever - he _will_ kill her if he gets the chance. 

“If you keep your word, no harm will come to you.” 

“Oh _really?_ ” Lucien scoffed, but Yasha didn’t even blink. Slowly, she took a deep breath before looking the lavender tiefling in the eye, with so much pain and sorrow hidden in those green and violet irises, even the sarcastic blood hunter fell completely silent.

“I swear…” her breath hitched, before her knuckles grew even paler around her weapon, as of stopping herself from breaking down. “- _on the memory of my best friend_ , that if you keep your end of the deal, so will we. I won’t let _any of them_ harm you. Just give us back Jester, and the Crest is yours... _Please_.”

His arm around her tightened, and Jester swore she could feel the place where her shoulder touched his chest - on the left side, over his heart, where he put Molly’s clover - felt like it was burning her skin under her heavy winter clothes. Lucien was barely breathing, and for a moment, a _crazy_ , _hopeful_ moment, Jester thought Yasha’s begging would bring back their friend. That was how it happened in all of her books, that in the end, love - let it be in any form - won over evil.

But this was reality. And instead, Lucien laughed under his breath - a slow, humorless laugh -, then he looked at the Mighty Nein behind Yasha, trying to ascertain something. Then, he nodded, the rest of his party seemingly relaxing a bit at once. They still seemed very watchful of every movement, but they no longer seemed outright hostile. Only a bit.

“Alright. I will take your word for it. But first - show that you really have the Crest on hand.”

When Veth nudged Fjord with her elbow, the half-orc pulled out their Bag of Holding with a grumble under his breath, looking for the amber for a few agonizing seconds before pulling the Crest out, sweat quickly forming on his forehead as he tried to hold the heavy thing. Yasha would have had an easier time, but currently, she was the one negotiating - a day Jester never thought would come.

And how she wished it wouldn’t have.

“ **Excellent!** ” Lucien seemingly has got back his previous grandiose, with the Tomb Takers echoing his excitement. Then, he dropped his voice lower as he nudged his head towards the goliath on his far right. “Put it down in front of Zoran. When you go past the aasimar, I will let Jester go. Nice and slowly, the two of you make your way towards your predetermined destination. Nobody tries any funny business, and no more blood has to be spilled tonight. After this is done, we both go our separate ways. _Understood?_ ” he sang, and Jester felt like he was being a tad too cheery about this.

_He really is a psycho, isn’t he?_

“Yeah…” muttered Beau, her eyes trained on Yasha. Jester saw her hands shaking around her staff. Besides Jester, she was the easiest target if things go horribly wrong.

_Artie, please don’t let anything go wrong!_

**_Sadly, that’s not something I am able to do at the moment. But, if you wish to run, all you have to do is say the word and I’ll whisk you away._ **

_I mean, it was kind of a figure of speech, but I appreciate the sentiment._

**_That’s all I’m here for, Jester. But, a word of advice - be careful. I wouldn’t trust that man if I were you._ **

_Don’t worry - I don’t._

Meanwhile, Fjord started to make his way towards the goliath. The air felt like it was full of gunpowder - that one bad move could have harrowing consequences. When he went past Yasha, he nodded at her, before turning his eyes towards Jester. Lucien still didn’t let go of her. The warlock was just about to stop and demand an explanation when Jester felt him pulling his arm back while the pressure of the blade was lifted - and she was suddenly free.

Quickly, she took a step forward, to which Lucien scolded her under his breath:

“No-no, love. Don’t run now. Remember the deal.” Jester looked back at him, but he wasn’t watching her. Instead, he turned his scimitar around to watch as her blood slowly ran along the blade before he let it drip into his waiting palm at the end - the one with the eye tattoo. Jester felt her stomach drop when the eye flashed red, and his palm now was positively blood-free. Like his skin _absorbed_ it.

With this done, he looked up, flashing another one of his creepy smiles at her. “ _Unless you wish to stay with us?_ ”

A shiver ran down Jester’s back when the four other humanoids repeated that last word, even though none of them should be able to speak infernal. Thinking whether it would be wise to demand an explanation for what he had just done - whatever it was, it was certainly bad news for her - but alas, she didn’t have much leverage right now. So instead, she fought down the urge to spit in his face, and just pulled her dress’s hood up to better fight the cold that now enveloped her without Lucien’s greater body heat, and started slowly walking towards Yasha who was staring at the lavender tiefling. 

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing that will harm her. Or at least, not unless your word turns out to be worthless.”

“That wasn’t in our deal.”

“ **...** ”

Every step Jester took felt like an eternity. She was sure she couldn’t have been more than maybe twenty or thirty feet away from the rest of the party, but now it felt more like miles. From the corner of her eye, she could see Fjord, mirroring her movements, his eyes trained on the smirking goliath who towered over him with at least three feet. The giant hammer he lazily draped across his shoulder like it was a children’s toy wasn’t a joke either. One good swing and he could knock the warlock’s head right off his shoulders.

Fighting off the haunting mental image, Jester instead focused on her friends. Caleb, Veth, Caducous, Beau, with Yasha at the front, were all ready to jump in if there was a mere inkling of a threat from any of Lucien’s crew. 

Jester reminded herself that she wasn’t useless either - she can still use _Sacred Flame_ and could _Toll the Dead_ , and she still had her handy little axe, but she couldn’t do much else unless she was ready to give up their only way out of the 'worst-case scenario.'

And even that wasn’t sure to not kill them, with how fucked up magic worked here. Their chances were _fair_ at best.

Waving away these dark thoughts, Jester tried to concentrate on the fact that she was almost there - Yasha looked at her, a strained smile on her face that was meant to be comforting -, one step, _two_ , and-

Yasha reached out to grab her, and Jester quickened her steps, a tear rolling down her face at being so close, _so close to safety…_

“You know, at a second glance, **I think this little deal of yours isn’t as great as you believe it**.”

There was a sharp whistle - and an arrow bolt flew out of the darkness, piercing through Yasha’s neck.

Jester stopped in her tracks, feet frozen in the snow. Yasha gasped, blood bubbling out of her throat before taking a step forward, a hand flying up to the bolt before taking another step - and her legs gave out under her, her body falling to the ground with a loud _thud_.

There was a second of silence.

“ **YASHA**!”

_Beau. That was Beau screaming._

And then all hell broke loose.

Another bolt flew past her, along with several of Caleb's acid arrows - somebody was yelling, steel clashed against steel, but Jester didn’t care about any of that. She was running, taking those few steps that lied between her and Yasha, who was still alive, holding herself merely inches above the snow as blood continued to pour out of her neck and mouth.

_There is still time!_

“Caducous, help!” Jester yelled for the other cleric, and almost slipped in the snow as she dodged Beau who ran past her, the _Belabor_ crackling in her hand as the monk jumped at Lucien - the tiefling aware of her intent, and easily danced around her swings like they were nothing. 

Looking around for the firbolg, Jester saw him trying to get to them but was stopped when the elf with the shield and the sword charged at him, only able to raise his shield at the last second before she would have cut him in half. He grunted, being pushed back, but he was holding out for now.

Meanwhile, Fjord was facing the hulking goliath all on his own, the Threshold Crest left forgotten in the snow - and a simple swing from the giant sent him flying and skidding along the snow-covered ground, his left arm bent in an unnatural position when he came to a stop, his face contracted in excruciating pain. It looked like the Goliath was going in for a second strike, but he was suddenly stopped by Dagen who rammed his chair into him at a surprising speed, swinging Sheila for a strike that when hit, made the goliath roar out in pain.

Throughout all of this, Caleb and Nott kept firing at Cree, Lucien, and the halfling that finally emerged from the darkness, the one who, **by sheer luck** , basically one-shot Yasha. 

When Jester finally - _finally_ \- reached the barbarian, Yasha was now laying in the snow, barely breathing. 

_I have to remove the arrow, first._

The bolt almost completely went through Yasha’s throat, so instead of trying to flip her over, Jester grabbed the bloody, wet metal, and yanked it as hard as she could. It came free with a sickening _crunch_ \- and even more blood stained the pristine snow under her knees red.

_Quickly, quickly Artie!_

Putting both of her hands on each side of Yasha’s neck, Jester concentrated on casting _Spare the Dying_. She felt the Traveller behind her, his hands covering hers as healing energy flow through them, determined to not lose sight of what she was doing - even when she heard Beau yell out in pain not thirty feet behind her, and all she could do was wish none of the Tomb Takers would focus their attention at her. Lucien did a pretty good job at making her look as mellow as possible, but that didn’t mean that she will be left alone to get their barbarian on her feet.

“I’m sorry Yasha.” Jester quietly apologized while a set of fireballs flew above her head, with Fjord shouting “ _Eldritch Blast!_ ” in the distance. “I will make this up to you, I promise!”

When the spell was over, Jester quickly turned Yasha on her back and checked her vitals. The hole in her neck was gone, but her pulse was very weak. Jester cursed herself for not having any healing potions and was dumbfounded that Yasha didn’t have any on her either. 

_No matter_. She was stabilized until Caduceus has the chance to heal her - and until then, Jester would make sure nobody else gets the chance to hurt her.

Pulling her axe out of its holder, Jester stood up and looked around the battlefield. Things were not going well. Fjord and Dagen were struggling with the goliath, Caduceus was barely holding on against the elf, and Beau-

“ **BEAU!** ” Jester screamed when Lucien suddenly slashed the monk’s torso open - Beauregard, already greatly wounded and tired, was hit several times by the blood hunter and the cleric, the tabaxi casting another _Sacred Flame_ , engulfing her friend in divine fire - in return, she herself was set on fire without a warning when one of Caleb’s fireballs hit her straight in the chest. She let out a gut-wrenching scream as her black fur easily inhaled the flames.

Seeing how she was currently distracted, Jester held out a hand and started to cast _Toll the Dead_ on her, just as she caught Lucien’s head-turning around to look at her from the corner of her eye. Snarling, he suddenly snapped his fingers - one of his scimitars was knocked out of his hands by Beau, no doubt -, and Jester suddenly noticed that she was _falling_.

Her body hit the almost knee-deep snow. Even though her whole body should have started shivering as she sank in, it remained motionless, the cold seeping into her bones at a terrifying speed. No matter how hard she tried, Jester couldn’t move any of her body below her neck - it was like someone split her spinal cord. A suffocating fear filled her at the thought of never being able to move again, but she quickly waved away that delusion. There was no way Lucien could do that just with a drop of her blood and a snap of his fingers. There was no way he could be that powerful.

_Right?_

All Jester could do was grit her teeth and wait until the spell he cast on her would fade. Hearing the battle going on without her and not being able to do anything was pure agony. Even if the only thing she could do was swing her little axe was better than being taken out of the fight completely. 

She would fight Lucien with her bare hands if she had to. 

Finally, after twenty seconds or so, Jester felt the life returning to her neck, arms, torso, and legs, in that order. Her whole body started furiously shaking from the cold, and her limbs felt heavy and hard to move, but she didn’t waste time and started sitting up, ready to join the battle - but her heart dropped when she was finally able to see the battlefield.

The elf was dead - one of Veth’s arrows went straight through her skull, and she was lying face-down in the snow - but so was Dagen, both him and his chair broken into pieces. Caduceus was still up, but he looked extremely hurt and was currently backing away from the quickly-approaching goliath. Veth was trying to help him, shooting at the barbarian, and Fjord-

_Fjord._

His body was lying not far from Dagen’s, multiple arrow bolts sticking out from the middle of his back. _He wasn't breathing._

Jester bit back a sob, and quickly glanced at Beau who was still engaged with Lucien and Cree - the halfling was still up, although covered in acid from one of Caleb’s spells. The cleric was honestly amazed that Beau was still standing - but the one who she had to focus her attention on was the blood cleric, who looked ready to cast a seemingly bigger spell.

**_I won’t let you._ **

Reaching out a hand, she finally cast _Toll the Dead_ \- the tabaxi’s eyes flashed at her, a red instead of her usual yellow, but that didn’t change a thing. Jester could feel that her spell hit, and it hit _hard_ \- the tabaxi suddenly went rigid, not even a scream leaving her throat before she fell over, going limp in the red snow that surrounded their campsite.

Jester didn’t have time to celebrate - behind her she heard Veth yell out “ **CADUCEUS, NO!** ”, and as she turned her head, she saw the grave cleric’s head nearly snapped off his neck as the goliath landed a critical hit. He fell to the ground, unmoving.

Screaming, blinded with fury, Veth charged the hulking monstrosity, her new dagger tight in her grasp. Dodging a swing from his mighty axe, she slipped under his legs, quickly scurrying up Zoran's back and stabbing him again and again in a fit of rage. 

_Caduceus is dead._

_I don’t have any healing spells left._

_Caduceus just died._

_Fjord is dead as well._

_I can’t heal Yasha._

_All of our melee people all down._

_Wait, is Beau-_

Just as she looked back, Jester saw Beau take another hit - her feet were wobbling, she was losing too much blood, but Jester couldn’t help, unless-

_I have to get us out of here._

**_Jester?_ **

_We lost. There is no way they won’t slaughter us all._

Even though their odds were four against three currently, all three of them were in much better shape than the rest of the Mighty Nein combined - Beau was literally only standing out of sheer force of will at this point. 

But the problem with _Word of Recall_ was the distance - everybody other than Yasha was too far away. She had to somehow make everyone run to her - and then, maybe, just maybe, they can get away.

They will have to leave Caduceus and Fjord behind - but there is nothing they can do for them if they all die. 

_I’m sorry guys… please forgive me._

Looking at Veth - the one furthest away, the friend who understood her the most, the one who _just_ got her life back - Jester saw the goliath grab her off of his back, enraged, tossing the small halfling in front of him before lifting a massive leg-

Jester heard the sickening crunch from all the way from where she was kneeling, paralyzed.

_This is a nightmare._

_This isn’t real._

_It cannot be._

_No. It just can’t._

“Caleb-”

_**No!**_

Laying on his back, several feet behind her, Caleb was down - but still alive! -, Jester realized when he tried to sit up, a horrible arrow bolt lodged into one of his shoulders. When their eyes met, she motioned him to come closer, clutching the travel’s symbol in her hands.

But instead of nodding, and hurrying towards her as fast as he could, Caleb shook his head, and mouthed “ _Go!_ ”. 

“ **I won’t leave you!** ” Jester screamed, but Caleb yelled back.

“Take Yasha and go!” With shaking legs, he somehow willed himself to stand up, and even dodged another bolt, casting a firebolt that made the halfling dive out of the way with a grunt. 

“ **Beau!** ” Jester screamed, her voice sore, but the monk didn’t seem to hear her. In fact, she only managed to get Lucien’s attention, who, glancing at the holy symbol in her hands, got ready to snap his fingers again.

_No, I have to go now-_

“ _Art-_ ” as she clutched at one of Yasha’s arms, she didn’t even have time to call out to the Traveller - Lucien was faster. Mentally, Jester was ready to lose feeling in her body, but instead, all she felt was **pain**.

She couldn’t even scream - her nerves were almost fried by the intensive pain that ran through them. It felt like she was being both skinned and boiled alive, all the while being suffocated, and a terrible, high-pitched screech was ringing in her ears. Blood poured out her nose, her eyes, her ears - her blue hair and skin had turned red. The Traveller’s symbol fell out of her hands as she trashed next to Yasha, almost unconsciously trying to move as to not hit her in her agony.

Jester felt like it would never end, that pain would be the only thing she would ever feel - when she found her voice, she sobbed, she begged, she screamed - promising to do anything, _anything_ , just make it stop. In the end, she just pleaded to be killed, to be put out of her misery.

_Even death would have been better than this torture._

Then, all of a sudden - _it was over_. The pain stopped, ceased existing like it never did in the first place, and all Jester could feel was a profound, overwhelming emptiness. She felt like she was floating. It was a feeling similar to what Beau described as a 'high'.

If this was how she felt every time she got high, Jester didn’t get her friend in the slightest. This felt awful - although still incomparably better than what she just had to go through.

Suddenly, a warm, shaking hand eclipsed hers, and Jester finally opened her eyes - her vision was still a bit shaky, but through the blood and tears, she saw Caleb’s face, his skin paler than the snow still falling around them.

Gently, he caressed her cheek before looking up and saying something to someone - Jester didn’t know, as her hearing still hadn't returned, but moving her head to the side, she realized he was talking to Lucien.

The blood hunter was prowling around the three of them, the smug look on his face fully returned. They had won the fight - and it looks like they are going to spare those who were left alive. 

Or, at least, that’s what Jester thought until her hearing fully returned.

“Which one would it be then, Caleb? You know, I can go either way - both a monk and a wizard could be useful in Aeor, and I wish I could have both of you by my side, but sadly, four is my limit. We could tie you up and make you help us that way, of course, but you see, that’s a bit too _risky_ for my liking. And Beauregard sadly isn’t feeling like discussing things at the moment - I just wish to know why...”

“ _...Beau?_ ”

Caleb glanced down at her, relief clear on his face upon seeing her awake. Gently, he brushed her hair out of her face, wiping a blood-filled tear off of her cheek.

“She got knocked out, but she is alive. Barely, though-”

“Oh, Jester! How lovely of you to join our conversation!”

His voice was really starting to grate on her nerves. If it wasn’t for the terrifying fact that he could put her through such excruciating pain, Jester would tell him to _fuck off_.

“You see, you guys lost me two very dear companions - something I’m a bit… salty about at the moment, but I believe in the sentiment that you can forgive and forget. And so- Oh, Zoran, could you please fetch the Threshold Crest?” the goliath grunted before walking back to the way he just came from, grumbling under his breath. The rogue halfling was standing behind Lucien, next to something on the ground, and as Jester’s vision cleared further, she realized it was an unconscious Beauregard. “Anyway, as I was saying, I no longer have a cleric - thanks to you, Jester, amazing use of the spell, by the way, very effective - which means I can’t revive any of my friends. But, thanks to Caleb - he offered to surrender, very smart of him - and thus we left you guys alive. Now the only thing left is deciding who gets to replace Tyffial, because you, Jester, already won a place on the team by just being a cleric - so, congratulations.”

Jester only had half an idea of what Lucien was babbling about, but the look on Caleb’s face became more dire with every word that left his mouth. 

Not knowing what to say or do, Jester looked at Yasha next to her. As she watched the warm breath escape between her slightly parted lips, only now did she realize that Lucien never mentioned her in his plans regarding the future. As if he was reading his mind, the blood hunter followed her stare, and a sad sigh left him as he twirled his scimitar in his hand.

“Well yes, _indeed_ , Jester. I don’t really have a need for another barbarian. Especially one _this_ useless...”

He took a step forward, and Caleb tried to pull her closer, to turn her head away, but Jester didn’t let him - she tried to move to shield her friend, but all she managed to do was a struggle in Caleb’s grasp and watch as Lucien’s blade was mercilessly brought down on Yasha.

“ **NO-**!” 

Lucien’s aim was perfect - the blade stabbed through the aasimar’s chest right in the middle, and Yasha’s breathing suddenly hitched - then her eyes snapped wide open.

The lavender tiefling froze when he saw the different colored eyes staring up at him. Jester saw his hands shake on the handle of his weapon, his own eyes glued on the new blood ran out of Yasha’s mouth - then, with a snarl, he yanked the weapon out of her chest before stabbing her again once, _twice_ -

“ **She’s already dead!** ” Caleb yelled, head down, his voice raw.

And indeed, the aasimar’s eyes didn’t blink. No warm breath left her mouth.

Lucien quickly stepped back, his breathing hard, his whole body shaking. Jester couldn’t look away from Yasha's face - eyes wide open, tears running down on her cheeks. Just a few minutes back, she looked unstoppable. She was going to go on a date with Beau tomorrow. She was finally starting to be happy.

Lucien robbed them - all of them - of more than their lives. Even if any of them survives for another day, they will never feel happiness again. 

At least, that’s what Jester was feeling.

“ _Why…_ ” she whispered. 

Lucien froze, eyes staring down at her, and Jester wondered whether she would be the next he was going to stab - and yet she didn’t look away. Instead, she asked again.

“Why… Why did you attack us..? We had a deal… we... didn’t do _anything_.”

While she was speaking, she slowly, carefully slipped one of her hands under the snow, looking for the Traveller’s symbol. When her question made Lucien look away in thought, she quickly poked one of Caleb’s legs, mouthing “symbol” quickly, to which he immediately - although as subtle as a wizard can be - started looking for it as well.

They had to get out of here. For _them_ \- for all the friends they have lost.

“You see, I kinda had a revelation when I let you go.” Lucien suddenly spoke, and Jester immediately looked at him, making sure it seemed like she was paying attention to his reasoning. “I realized that like me, you folk are hunters too, in a sense. But while I was hunting for something that’s _rightfully mine_ , you were hunting after something that _never belonged to you_. These sentiments you shared for this spec that inhabited my body was too strong - _you couldn’t let go_. And I realized you _never will_. You were going to try and stop me one way or the other, and frankly, I had enough of your games. I wanted to be free of you, so I decided it was better if I put an end to you while you were the most vulnerable. When the strongest among you was deeply lost in those sentiments.”

Slipping a hand under his coat, he pulled out something - a small, ruffled four-leaf clover. Lucien smiled a sad, pitying smile.

“I know it wasn’t fair, but in a way, I believe it’s a mercy… and this little thing… it mattered to her more than it ever could have to me.”

Gently, he laid the clover above Yasha’s quickly cooling heart, the little green plant nearly disappearing in the freezing redness that now adorned her chest. Without saying another word, he reached out and closed Yasha’s eyes, and Jester could no longer stay silent.

“You are a monster, Lucien.”

His hand stopped in mid-air as he pulled it back, red eyes snapped at purple ones. Jester didn’t look away. She held his stare as she continued speaking.

“No matter what you say, no matter how you try to justify it, no matter what your goals are - you are a monster. I won’t forgive you. I will _**never** _forgive you.”

Exhaling out of his nose, Lucien leaned closer to her still lying-form, and Caleb instinctively pulled her closer. A strained smile appeared on the blood hunter’s face as he hissed out at her in infernal.

“ _You see, Jester - I don’t need your forgiveness. I only need your abilities. And those, you will gladly offer me, after we’ll have a little… chat._ ”

The eye on his neck flashed red, and _that_ made her finally look away. She didn’t want to become part of this weird hive-mind thing he was the leader of. 

_I would rather_ _die._

As Lucien stood back up, he shivered from the cold temperature that kept dropping as the night dragged on. Watching Zoran as he was approaching them with the Threshold Crest in his grasp, the blood hunter scratched his chin for a second before another smile flashed upon his face. Glancing down at Jester, she again, froze the hand that was still looking for her symbol under the snow, wishing he would just stop looking at her.

“Hmm… if you are so _eager_ to share your thoughts with us, Jester, I think I’m almost obligated to offer _you_ the choice Caleb’s been so hesitant to make. Tell me, darlin’: which one of them do you _want_ around? The monk, or the wizard? Mind you, you should think about it really well. After all, if everything keeps going according to plan, you would be stuck with them for, well- _forever_.” at her widened eyes, Lucien snickered, his red eyes darkening. “Yes, indeed. I’m planning on living forever.”

During all of this, Caleb was dead silent. While Lucien was waiting for her decision, Jester inspected the face of one of the last friends she had left. And after Lucien realized she won’t make that horrible choice, and he will instead make it for her-

_I’m so tired._

Caleb finally looked back at her. Blinking slowly, he didn’t do anything for a few moments - then he smiled, and suddenly hugged her close.

Not understanding, Jester only whispered a quiet “ _Caleb?_ ” before he let go of her, standing up slowly, legs shaking, inhaling sharply before raising his chin.

Lucien was looking rather impassionate as he was watching this little display of theirs. He was losing his patience, Jester could see. Yet he was still curious - so much so, he let Caleb stand up, and when Zoran moved in to stand behind him, he waved him off, and instead, walked around Yasha’s body and Jester’s sitting form as to not have anything between them. Like he felt something important will be going down.

_He was always a sucker for theatrics…_

_…_

**_But this isn’t Molly._ **

Jester didn’t know why she thought he ever was. That he ever could have been.

“You know… if we would have met five or so years ago, I would have gladly followed you.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t drop his smile.

“Oh my, really now? Well, that’s a shame. I could have had a use for a wizard. Maybe if you would have been by my side, Vess DeRogna wouldn’t have been able to pull the trick she did on me. Such a shame… So much time _lost_.”

“I know the feeling... but I’m glad that didn’t happen. I know better now. The thing you seek won’t give you what you are searching for. No matter how hard you try, how you try to fill the hole that you want to fill, Lucien: You will stay empty all the same.”

Lucien stopped in his tracks, his left eye twitching as a vein popped on his forehead. His smile finally fell, only to be replaced by a malevolent grimace.

“Oh really? And why do you think you know the outcome? Have you ever accomplished anything in your life? Compared to me, you are a _failure_.”

He readied his scimitars, pulling them along his neck, activating his _Rite of the Frozen_ , coating the blades in a display of pale yet brilliant frost energy. 

The movement sent Jester back - to a more simple, happier time.

The way Caleb took a slow breath before speaking again made Jester realize - so was him.

“It’s funny…” he mumbled, his hands disappearing into his pouch, and when he looked at her, Caleb subtly nodded at something in the snow to her left before he chuckled under his breath. “I would say the same about you.”

For a second, neither of them moved. Then, Caleb pulled out the components with a sudden movement, but Lucien was faster - with weapons at the ready, he swiftly ran towards Caleb, who broke open a bag of dust, and pushed the lodestone through. Jester saw the thin, green ray of energy locking onto the middle of Lucien’s chest. 

_Disintegrate_ was a powerful spell, it destroyed a being posing as a god with ease, after all - but Lucien could see it coming. But there was still a chance - maybe he won’t be able to dodge it, and for a second, Jester hoped-

“ ** _Is this the best you can do, magician?_** ”

Caleb’s hand flinched as his face scrunched up in pain from the _Vicious Mockery_ that was thrown into his face. He tried to keep his aim true, but both Jester and Lucien could see that the spell won’t work. The green-ray rolled down the blood hunter’s shoulder as he dodged to the side, and somewhere in the far distance, three or so miles away, a snowbank exploded with a thundering _boom_.

Uncaring of her legs not feeling up to walking, Jester stood up, taking a few steps forward as she watched Caleb getting skewered by the two scimitars, rays of frost energy bursting out of his back as the blades easily ran through weakened flesh and muscle. 

Falling back down into the snow, Jester wrapped her hands around the Traveller’s symbol, and pulled the little object to her chest, holding it close.

Looking back up, she watched as Caleb struggled to breathe, holding onto Lucien’s arms to keep himself upwards. The tiefling looked down at the wheezing wizard with disgust, yet he didn’t push him off of him. Not yet.

“This was… _extremely disappointing._ After all that talk, I thought you had more up your sleeve. What a let-down.”

His grip getting stronger on his arms for a second, Caleb fought himself somewhat upright and seeing the pained smile on his face broke Jester’s heart one last time.

“You know… _same_. I thought I would at least… see just a glimmer of you in there… you disappointed me, **_Mollymauk_**.”

With a sudden kick to the chest, Caleb was promptly pushed off Lucien and his weapons, making the wizard’s body fell backward, arms spread wide as he stared up into the night sky, his sad smile slowly fading as his breathing lessened more and more, up until his chest no longer moved. His eyes finally closed, Caleb let out his final breath.

Finally, Jester was alone. Alone with three monsters, and a friend she won’t be able to save.

The least she could do was save _her_ from a fate worse than death.

“Pathetic. Comparing himself to me - how ballsy. Didn’t really help you in the end, did it? _Stupid bastard_.” Lucien spat on Caleb’s quickly cooling corpse, unaware how Jester wasn’t even looking at him, and instead, looked back at the still unconscious, severely wounded Beauregard. The halfling next to Beau did notice though when she reached out with a hand and quietly whispered: “ _Toll the Dead._ ”

Before the rogue could have shouted out, Lucien already sensed something going down, and he turned around just in time to see Beau’s broken body flinch - and a moment later, how her shallow breathing disappeared as the life completely left her.

None of the Tomb Takers moved for a second, too stunned at what Jester just did. The little blue tiefling quietly raised the Traveller’s symbol over her chest, uncaring of how the lavender one was quickly approaching her, who knows for what kind of depraved reason.

“ _ **YOU-**_ ”

“ _Artagan_.”

In his seething rage, Lucien didn’t notice that she regained her holy symbol. His red eyes widening upon realization, he lunged forward to stop her, an arm outstretched - which was promptly swapped out of the way with enough force to break a bone with a sickening _snap_. 

The blood hunter howled out like a kicked dog, and sneered at the person who dared to steal his price- and his face fell when he saw the mess of emerald cloak, drifting ethereally in some gentle, non-existent breeze, the god within not even sparing him a glance like he was no better than an annoying bug flying around his head.

Jester, however, saw none of this. Her eyes still trained on Beau’s unmoving form, she let the Traveller gently lay her head on his shoulder, followed by a hushed whisper only she could hear.

“ _Hold on tightly, Jester. I’m not sure what will happen._ ”

Jester stayed silent, not wanting to worry Artie about what her answer would have been: that she didn’t care what would happen. Closing her eyes, Jester heard everything - Lucien’s enraged scream, the howling wind, and her own slow, staggering heartbeat. And then - nothing. Only deafening silence.

While she was being dragged across time and space as she knew it, Jester fully accepted, and now felt it for certain: wherever her body would end up, in whatever form, her heart was already dead - buried under forever-falling snow, next to her friends, her family, the people she let down, the ones she couldn’t save.

Her hands, still wrapped around the symbol of her faith, tightened around it strong enough to hurt, yet Jester didn’t ease her grip.

It was the only thing she had left, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing Jester so hopeless is rough, but it's also a necessary evil for the plot I have in mind. 
> 
> After all - the people who are left without hope are the ones who need miracles the most.


End file.
